“Hershel, what will be?” Malka asked with tears in her eyes. She pointed at the two children lying on straw mattresses, shivering in the cold. “Look at Moishele and Chaim. They are so thin and weak. What shall I give them to eat tomorrow morning? From where will we get warm blankets to warm them up a bit?”
Hershel lowered his gaze. Their circumstances were dire indeed. Each day he tried his luck at some job or another and brought home a few coins but he did not see blessing in his labor.
“Malka, we must strengthen our trust in Hashem. Hashem watches over each one of us and He sees our plight and will surely help us. Let us not fall into despair.”
Malka remained silent.
“In a few days we will be celebrating Chanuka.” Hershel’s eyes lit up. “I will go to Berditchev to the Rebbe. Over there I will get strength and joy. And also, I will ask the Rebbe for a bracha. Only the Rebbe can help us!”
“Where will you get the money for the expenses for the trip to Berditchev?” practical Malka wondered.
“Hashem will help!” In Hershel’s optimistic mind he could already picture the menorah lighting in his Rebbe’s house. The thought alone was enough to warm his body and give him renewed energy.
With Hashem’s kindness, Hershel managed to gather a few coins that were enough for the journey. He said goodbye to his family and set out.
Glistening snow covered the earth. The rooftops looked as though they were blanketed in white and tree branches shone in sparkling white.
All along the way, Hershel sang Chassidic tunes and was joyful and excited to be going to see the Rebbe.
Night had already fallen as they entered the town of Berditchev, but it looked like noon. Numerous wagons had entered the town, one after the other, bringing Chassidim to Rabbi Levi Yitzchok of Berditchev.
It was the first night of Chanuka. The beis midrash was full and one could hear the murmuring of conversations, learning and davening. Suddenly, there was a hush. The Rebbe had walked into the room. He walked over to the large menorah placed at the southern wall of the beis midrash. A large candle was in the holder on the right, waiting to be lit.
The Rebbe recited the brachos with tremendous concentration and all the Chassidim burst into song, “HaNeiros HaLalu.”
After the lighting, the Rebbe retired to his room and his students went to arrange the tables for the seuda to take place later that evening, as they did every year.
In the meantime, many Chassidim waited at the doorway of the Rebbe’s room, yearning to enter and be blessed by him. One by one they entered and then emerged, encouraged and blessed.
It was Hershel’s turn and he walked in quietly with his gaze lowered.
“How are you and how is business?” asked the Rebbe.
Hershel could not stop his tears from coming. “Rebbe, I can’t take it anymore. My children are dying of starvation and I have no money with which to buy enough food and blankets for the cold. I cannot bear to see the suffering of my wife and children.”
The Rebbe closed his eyes and was quiet for a while. Then he took a small piece of paper and wrote a few words on it. He folded the note and gave it to Hershel and said, “When you leave Berditchev on your way home, open the note and read what I wrote. But remember, you must keep a close watch over the note so it does not get lost. As soon as you leave town, open and read it. If the note is lost, I will not be able to help you.”
Hershel took the note. He realized that his fate and future depended on the folded paper whose contents he still did not know.
He tried to use the remaining time he had in the Rebbe’s presence properly. He spent time with the Chassidim, heard Divrei Torah from the Rebbe, and was warmed by the holy atmosphere.
A few days passed and Hershel prepared to leave the next day. He could not sleep all that night. He sat in the beis midrash and learned Torah.
At dawn, he davened in the Rebbe’s beis midrash and then hurriedly got on the first wagon leaving in the direction of his town.
There was a storm and Hershel held tightly to the note. In a few minutes they would be leaving Berditchev and he would be able to open the note.
“Stop!” Hershel ordered the wagon driver as soon as they left the town. The wagon driver stopped the wagon in surprise, wondering what happened. Hershel did not explain. He took out the note, opened it, but Oy! The strong wind grabbed it from his hand and it blew away!
Hershel jumped out of the wagon in a fright and began chasing after it. He ran quickly but the wind was quicker than he and the note remained out of his reach. Hershel continued to chase after it, determined to retrieve it. The wagon driver just watched in astonishment, not understanding what had overcome his passenger.
Then Hershel stopped. The note had landed in a small hole in the ground and no longer blew about. Around the note were brambles. That did not stop Hershel. He carefully made his way among the thorns until he was able to reach out and touch the note.
He looked up and … couldn’t believe his eyes. A pile of shining coins was under the note as though waiting there especially for him.
With a hand trembling both from the cold and excitement, Hershel scooped up the treasure and returned to the wagon, elated.
Now he understood why the Rebbe had told him to open the note outside the town. The Rebbe’s words had been precise.
All the way back home, Hershel hummed the Chanuka words, “For Your miracles and Your wonders …” in which he included his own personal Chanuka miracle.